


"Im not a cowboy, im a cowMAN" -As per my Google Doc

by Zonerz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I HAVENT CARED DEEPLY ABOUT OVERWATCH IN TWO YEARS BUT THAT MCCREE SHORT, I was like 'Jesse would hit Hanzo with Ashe's bike' and wanted to write that, M/M, Other, but then I realized there needed to be a reason, heckin good, post-reunion, so 6000 words later and we're here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zonerz/pseuds/Zonerz
Summary: "Jesse McCree finds himself back in Deadlock Gorge only two weeks after his run-in with Ashe. He ran in with a tip that Talon was inspecting the remnants of the train bust. Hoping to find some clues on which Talon operative is the ex-Blackwatch member, he wanders back into the den of his enemies and comes out with a bit more than he asked for."~~~~~Broke: After Reunion McCree went to have dinner with HanzoWoke: After Reunion McCree hit Hanzo with his fuckin bikeThanks for coming to my TEDTalk I hope you enjoy, I swear it's not a shitpost Im just bad at taking myself seriouslyAlso heads up I didn't revise a whole lot??? So there's probably mistakes WHOOPS





	"Im not a cowboy, im a cowMAN" -As per my Google Doc

He really hadn’t planned on coming back to the gorge. Though with his luck, he shouldn’t be surprised to find himself back on old Route 66 once more. With the way he left here last time, it would have been the perfect closing to that chapter of his life. He single handedly lured, fought, defeated and humiliated Ashe and her new Deadlock Gang with an air of ease surrounding him the whole time. Hell, with  _ Deadlock _ being the one to blow up the tracks, he didn’t even have to get his hands dirty in the eyes of the military. His Deadlock story closing with him riding off into the sunset on his rich rival’s bike, not even caring to glance back. Damn, sounds like something right out of those old movies he’d watch. 

But, with his luck, he’s back here within two weeks of leaving, chasing down a ghost. Since the Talon attack on the hyper train, he’s kept a closer eye on their little heists out of curiosity. As he’s noted prior,  _ Blackwatch tactics. _ And it ain’t no lackey that would be commanding the troops like that.  _ Who _ though is another question, and one he intends to find out before joining the recall. He didn’t exactly leave on the best terms, so rejoining with some important information could substitute as a form of consolation.

There’s not many high-up options that immediately came to mind. Reyes is dead, the thought of which still makes his gut tighten, so it’d be impossible to be him. Genji may have been apathetic and on edge 24/7, but he wasn’t a Talon type, nor did he really  _ know _ Blackwatch tactics like Jesse did. Genji just did what he was told, like a well oiled machine. That thought runs a chill down his spine as he clutches the bikes handles just a  _ little _ bit tighter.  _ ‘Poor kid.’ _ He never fully grasped how his brother did something to him. Family was important to McCree, which is probably why all the in-fighting took such a toll so fast. He had to leave it because he couldn’t stand to watch. 

A sigh leaves his lips as the wind beats back his mangled hair. He readjusts his cigar, deciding to shift his focus to the land around him for the moment. The highway is an empty and barren one for certain but not lonely per se. The orange and red rocks that are poster children for the American southwest rise high over the dusty road as he gets closer to the gorge itself. He notes a few dried up and long dead plants scattered across the landscape.

_ ‘Right, Moira.’ _ He snorts in disgust, the dead plants dragging up that walking skeleton from his memory. She’s certainly a possible suspect; cunning, shady, and incredibly intellectual. Though, like Genji, her focus wasn’t really based on their  _ missions. _ When she rarely went along with them, it was out of necessity and lack of other personnel. She was always wrapped up in some weird experiment; the stuff he’d seen in her lab leaves an everlasting impression, no way in hell he ever trusted his life with her. With his life in her hands she’d probably do something  _ bad _ to him out of her cruel curiosity. Genji, while usually having little to say, would indulge Jesse in complaining about the close calls they had with the doctor. Often times, check-ups would lead to suspicious poking and prodding, or she’d try to convince you to test something  _ small _ for her.

Extremely creepy woman, bad doctor, wouldn’t recommend. And while she certainly didn’t have clean hands, she just didn’t seem to fit the bill. She knew science, not tactics. He scowls, chewing slightly on the cigar in frustration. He never liked being in the dark, and doubling the fact that he was diving straight into enemy territory didn’t help his shit mood. Hopefully, it’d be an in and out job. While his—or well,  _ Ashe’s _ —bike was fast, if Talon already dropped in to check out the train bust that morning, they’d’ve hauled ass outta there on their jets quicker than Jesse could’ve made to town. It was a gamble, but hopefully they’d left something,  _ anything _ that could give him a new clue.

_ Hopefully. _

He slows down, quieting the engine in turn as he approaches the tunnel to the diner and the inner parts of Deadlock Gorge. The military had already begun cleanup, but the only way to get most of their equipment through was to get the first few train cars that blocked the only road in and outta town out. It at least would make things easy for him. He gently tugs the brakes and pulls off to the side as he reaches the scene. Hopping off the bike, he stuff the keys and makes sure he hasn’t been followed before approaching the fallen train once more.

Echo is long gone by this point, hopefully in Overwatch’s hands by now so he at least only has to worry about himself out here. With that, he saunters throughout the area, squinted eyes scanning every inch of metal, dirt and dust around him for anything that might seem  _ off. _

The tip he received was vague at best, but with nothing else to go on he might as well try it out. He stops and follows the crossbeams of the track up to where the train used to be dangling overhead. Looking further down the track, it seems they just pulled it back in the meantime. The shining silver steel contrasts sharply with the old brown rails that held that track prior. Repairs at least seemed to be running smoothly. No special damage indicating a break-in since he left either.

A scowl paints his features as he huffs and begins scanning the ground again. Some  _ hint. _ Either Talon didn’t arrive at  _ all _ , or they did the same thing McCree’s wasting his time doing now. Admiring the view. He internally berates himself before something in the sand catches his eye. His eyes widen as he quickly hurries a few feet forward, crouching down to inspect it.

What could easily be glossed over as some rough bumps in the sand, is the clear shape of footprints to the cowboy. The wind has brushed away details however, so he begins scouring around for more prints left behind. You could tell a lot about a person from their footprint, and only a higher up would be sent out on an inspection mission like this. It’s a prerequisite for most plans; know your target, know the area. He moves further into the leftover wreckage, the train cars have at least been more organized and lined up than previously. The closer to a train car, the less likely the wind would have destroyed any prints left behind. 

_ “Bingo.” _ He mutters under his breath as he finds a pair only a few feet out from a car now moved to sit perpendicular to the tracks above. Probably was checking out how construction was going and spotting any weak points. The government has long since removed a majority of the goods that crashed, leaving only empty cars on the ground. Doesn’t mean Talon wouldn’t be interested in checking things out though. This is a niche kind of area, so a future reference for one of the tracks the military uses to transport weaponry could be an even easier score for them than it was for Deadlock.

The prints are large. Not BOB large but large and the soles of the shoes are very clearly detailed.  _ ‘Must’ve been heavy.’ _ Unfortunately, the pattern the soles show are the traction on the bottom of the shoe, or more likely,  _ boot. _ He stands up straight again and places his own foot by the side for the sake of confirmation. His spurs jingle as he moves and he notes that the boots were really only slightly larger than his. A shiver gets sent up his spine as he realizes who Talon probably sent out here. That hooded one, the ghost with the shot guns. He’d had some closer than comfortable run-ins with that one, and in his book, he was most likely to be the tactician and traitor. Doomfist would otherwise be a guess but he doesn’t know Blackwatch, and he only just recently escaped from prison. 

A sigh escapes him. They of course cleaned up after themselves well aside from this. Footprints aren’t much to go off of, but at minimum, it’s better than nothing. He can at least be a bit more certain that Blackwatch’s traitor is the one behind that hood. At this rate though, the only way to find out who it really is would be to rip that creepy mask off his face himself. Frankly? McCree would rather not force himself into danger just to do  _ that _ . 

It was a blessing and a curse that the gang hadn’t meandered over here while he was inspecting the place. They must be keeping their heads low as the government works. However, this means they’re probably lurking in another part of town that he won’t expect. Best course of action now is to grab his bike, speed outta there, and never look back. 

He pulls out the keys to the ignition as he swings his leg over the side. Putting in the key, the bike starts with a  _ lovely _ roar. He grins to himself, still proud that he was able to just  _ grab _ her bike and go. Hearing Ashe lose her composure as she screamed at him from an increasing distance was  _ astonishingly _ satisfying. He swings the bike around, a plume of dust starting to rise behind him as he hits the gas and heads back through the tunnel to the outer region of the gorge. In and out, just like he planned.

Then there’s the sound of gunshots. 

He instinctively ducks at the sound before he strains to pinpoint the direction it came from. He glances behind him as they ring out again, jerking his gaze back to the road ahead of him. From the lack of bullets whizzing by him, he can at least safely assume he hasn’t been spotted. As he gets deeper into town he settles down and pinpoints the source of the ruckus. Another bar on the side of the main road. Not explicitly a Deadlock joint, but still a place you don’t wanna get caught in. He sits back a bit, it’s just some fool that got caught in a bar fight with some of the gang. He pities the idiot that set ‘em off. Oh well though, as long as he maintains his speed, doesn’t make eye contact and overall stays in his lane he should be—

**_“JESUS CHRIST!”_ ** The sudden body chucked out of the bar window hits him and his bike, sending him skidding off the side of the road with a resounding screech. He manages to slip off the bike, using his mechanical hand to dig into the ground and slow himself to a stop. There’s his bad luck rearing it’s ugly head once again. Now the clock’s on as the Deadlock gang is bound to come check out the wreckage within minutes. If he’s lucky, Ashe isn’t with ‘em and will still take a few minutes to get here. If he’s lucky.

He glances at the bike behind him. Banged up but not unusable. A beauty but that doesn’t mean it ain’t durable; Ashe always had good taste in that sense. He switches his gaze from the bike to the poor fucker that got thrown out the window, and, to his surprise, the guy’s already getting up. Hardly a scratch. The man looks back at him, briefly locking eyes as McCree is flooded with details. Dark brown eyes, black hair with a bang that hangs over his right eye and a loosely tied bun—no doubt pushed out of place in the tousle—with high cheekbones and a clean-cut beard. Aside from a few scratches from the glass and scrapes from skidding across the road, he doesn’t look too bad off. He gets a certainty in his gut however, that this guy has seen a few good fights of his own.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of heavy, metal footsteps. The pair of men jerk their gaze to the perpetrator and McCree is met with a familiar face. With the force this fella was thrown at him with, it makes sense that it was BOB who threw him. But if BOB was there, that meant Ashe wasn’t far behind. McCree hops to his feet as the omnic blinks in obvious surprise. There wasn’t one, but  _ two _ men on the street; and one of them was  _ McCree! _

The cowboy tips his hat briefly at the omnic before the other Deadlock members get trigger happy.

_ “Shit!” _ He ducks his head and scrambles to find a makeshift hiding place, but doesn’t get the chance before he feels a strong grip on his collar as the man from before starts running them towards and outcropping.

“ _ Get moving!” _ The man emphasizes with a yank before letting go, the pair sprinting behind cover with plumes of dust being shot up around them. It took him a minute to even process what the man said with his accent. Once the two are hidden behind cover, he hears the gunshots momentarily cease and the yelling begin. He hears his name in particular from the triplets as they start yellin’ to other members of the gang. It’s one thing for them to have gotten into a fight with the fella he’s paired up against, but now that  _ McCree’s _ here? They won’t be holding back as long as they can get to him. His gaze shoots to the bike, as it sits in the ditch. It’s still running but it’s now several meters away. An easy grab n’ go if there weren’t half a dozen guns pointed towards him.

Or well,  _ them,  _ now. With that thought he turns to his newfound ally. He seems about the same age as himself and certainly isn’t from around here. He’s not even dressed properly for this area. A stifling high collared coat, jeans and lace-up boots is casual but not good for desert heat. The man scowls to himself as he listens to the yelling as well, shooting a glare to the cowboy. He can obviously tell that McCree’s presence has only exasperated the situation, to which the cowboy only offers a half shrug, getting an eye roll in return. McCree goes to rolls his cigar in his mouth, only mildly surprised to find it had fallen out with the crash. He lets out a sigh of irritation before he sucks it up and offers a hand to the man.

“Considering this is the  _ worst _ situation we coulda met on, allow me introduce myself at least somewhat formally. The name’s—“

“Jesse McCree. I know. I’ve seen your wanted posters hanging.” The man replies with an air of snootiness that throws Jesse a bit off-guard. He blinks then let’s out an amused huff, biting the inside of his cheek. Best not to be rude to the fella that may help get him  _ out _ of this mess. His movements catch his eye as the man unslings something akin to an instrument case from his back, going to open it.

“I don’t think playing them a song will make ‘em feel better about the situation partner.”

“Perhaps not.” The man throws open the cover and pulls out an incredibly high quality bow, “But I’m not looking to be kind.” With that, he knocks a bow with an oddly more spherical tip and in one quick, well-practiced move, he shoots it off at an angle. The arrow whizzes quickly through the air, sharply arcing to the left and landing right next to BOB’s feet. There’s a moment of silence before a chorus of laughter breaks out.

_ “Ya missed Robin Hood!”  _ Is one shout that stands out, followed by another barrage of obnoxious laughter. The archer rolls his eyes and reaches in his bag again, slipping an earpiece in which activates and turns a holographic lens on over his right eye. McCree watches with a quirked brow and the man hesitates a second as he notices. His steel gaze studies McCree for a long second before he reaches in his bag and tosses him an identical piece. McCree barely catches the little thing before he looks at the archer curiously. The man sighs, slightly annoyed.

“I fired a sonar arrow. These sights will allow us to see who’s standing where through the walls.” He pulls his quiver onto his back, emptying out the rest of his bag in the process. He kicks it further into the dirt, no longer caring for it. “Whether we like it or not, I presume we have a common goal to get out of here  _ alive. _ If you help me, I’ll help you.”

The archer purposefully looks McCree dead in the eye as he finishes his offer. McCree holds it before looking down at the earpiece prior to fitting it in his ear. He holds out a hand with a grin. “Then I suppose we’re partners,  _ partner.” _

The man raises a brow, but indulges in his antics with a faint smirk. He shakes his hand. “I suppose so.” The slightly charming response is immediately lost as another round is shot at the rock, the archer growing serious again. With the sight activated, McCree is impressed to see the archer was telling the truth. Through the rock and walls he could easily make out the outlines of those close by BOB. A few members shift in and out of view as they move about different vantage points. He frowns.  _ ‘So there’s a radius on that sonar. Shouldn’t be surprised.’ _ He looks back at the man beside him and opens his mouth to speak but is cut off. The archer briefly swings around the outcropping and fires another arrow. It hisses through the air and strikes it’s target perfectly. Hitting one of the omnic members, a barrage of sparks is let loose as McCree watches him flicker out and crumble through the sight. He whistles with a grin.

“Well I’ll be  _ damned!” _ He pulls out his pistol with a spin as he looks up at the man, “Somethin’ tells me that wasn’t just a lucky shot.” He gets a small smirk out of the man as he lines up another shot. McCree catches whom he’s aiming for and spins out of cover, landing a bullet in the omnic sniper before the archer can even let go of his arrow. He ducks back behind the cover of the outcropping and laughs at the accusatory look that move garnered him. “Lighten up! I’ll stop picking off yer shots for ya but I figured I ought to grab your attention for a brief second.” He gestures for the archer to get a bit closer. He hesitates but eases the draw on his arrow to crouch down and listen. McCree nods at the bunch they can see thank to the sonar arrow.

“Now, I  _ know _ Deadlock. While there’s a lot concentrated at the front of the bar with ol’ BOB, that’s certainly not all of them. They’re smarter than that.” he taps the side of his head then nods upwards. “Like that sniper I just took out—“

“That I _had.”_

“ _ Right. _ That you had. They’ve bound to got more of em spreading upwards and outwards where we can’t see with that fancy arrow of yours. Im good at crowd control, I can hit most of those fellas that are bunched up.”

The archer slowly nods, seeing where he’s going.

“If I bolt out there to grab the bike, I can get a majority of those guys as I’m running. Maybe not kill, but I can easily take em out of the fight.  _ My _ problem then is—“

“The outliers and the omnic.”

“ _ Exactly.  _ You can probably do better damage with those arrows of yours. For the big guy though…” He pauses as he looks at the silhouette of BOB, tapping his fingers on the rock. He looks among the surrounding figures then lights up with a snap. “There’s another omnic to BOB’s left—our right—with a utility belt. On his right side—our left—it looks like he has a standard grenade. If you can hit that, it’ll definitely knock the gang out long enough so we can grab that bike and haul ass out of here.”

“How are you certain?”

“I’ve used those types of ‘nades before, and the last time I knocked out the gang two weeks ago with ‘em.”

It was the archer’s turn to be somewhat surprised. “At the  _ train heist?” _

“ _ Minor details. _ Sound like a plan?” He offers a thumbs up and a nod. The archer scoffs. 

“It’ll be easier than my warm-ups.”

“ _ Ha!  _ Don’t get cocky before the real shooting even starts, archer. I’m counting on ya.” He gets a nod in return and grips his gun as he sucks in a breath and looks briefly to the sky. 

_ “C’mon McCree! Show us yer head, coward!” _ The sound of a good dozen guns cocking rings out. McCree merely shakes his head with a grin, 

_ “Alright! Here I come!” _

And thus it begins.

McCree darts out, gun bared and fans the rest of the bullets—each hitting their target with practiced ease—before he drops to a roll.  _ Five down. _ Bullets whizz past him as he finishes reloading. With the bullets stuffed back into the cartridge he raises his prosthetic arm over his head momentarily.

“ _ Shit!” _

The high pitched twang of a bullet grazing and bouncing off his metal arm reverberate. He continues backing up as he flicks his gun shut and raises his it once more. An arrow shoots past his head, hitting another sniper trying to flank McCree’s left. The cowboy returns the favor, taking out the man aiming for the archer first before he picks up speed again. With the archer now terrorizing the gang as well, the firing is split for the better. The cowboy continues his sprint for the bike, but keeps his eyes and gun trained on the gang members. 

He scans the area desperately for something that could give them an advantage. Back at the train, he was able to shoot a cable and knock down a whole ‘nother car. Here though, there’s nothing. Just him, some dirt and Deadlock with the advantage of building cover. And also BOB. Having BOB is unfair.

He shoots another approaching from his left without moving his gaze from the bunch around BOB. The omnic has grabbed the lid of a trash can to protect the others with, pissing McCree off just  _ slightly. _ He fans three more bullets, hitting three people just spread enough that BOB couldn’t block all of his,  _ or _ the archer’s shots. With a quick look-over the place, the cowboy finds that all the outliers have been cleared out. He briefly makes eye contact with the archer who silently urges him to keep running. He’s switched to the left of their outcropping, preparing to run himself the moment McCree grabs hold of the bike. 

The bullet that whizzes over McCree’s shoulder from the all-too-familiar lever-action shotgun makes something in his stomach drop.

**_“FREEZE MCCREE!”_ **

He does so. The moment he saw Jesse falter, the archer pulled back, ducking behind the outcropping at the woman’s voice. He hadn’t seen her prior to this, if she hadn’t seen him yet somehow, then he might be able to use surprise to their advantage. He’d have to move quickly once the moment is right.

McCree’s arms slowly raise above his head with a huff. The jingling of his spurs as he slowly turns around builds the tension in the air with each step. He smiles charmingly as he faces Ashe for the second time within the month. The Deadlock leader eases her grip on her gun—keeping it still trained on McCree—as she saunters out into the early evening sun. As she walks past one gang members trying grabbing her attention, but is blatantly ignored.

_ “Ashe careful there’s another—“ _

“Awfully gentlemen-like of you to drop in again so soon!” She pumps her gun again, dropping her voice.  _ “You got a lot of guts showing yer face around here, McCree.” _

**_“Ashe—“_ **

“ _ CAN IT!” _ She barks back at the man trying to speak to her, one of the triplets, who quickly looks towards and nods at the outcropping. He squints and studies it for a moment. She takes a few more steps forward, looking to take a glance behind it. McCree catches on quickly and brings her attention back to him.

Ashe’s eyes widen at the clicking of McCree pulling the trigger on his empty gun. She hisses as she pulls her gun back up, scoping in and aiming for his head. 

_ “The hell are you pulling McCree?!  _ **_SPILL!_ ** _ ” _

“Now it’s mighty rude to point a gun at someone while they talk.”

_ “ ‘it’s mighty rude to point a gun at someone while they talk’ “ _ She mocks him in a high pitched voice Jesse heard near constantly in his childhood with Ashe. “ _ My patience with you has worn thin Jesse. You haven’t done  _ **_ANYTHING_ ** _ good for the gang since we founded it.”  _ She spits then huffs,  _ “Betrayin’ the only family ya ever had…  _ what kinda man  _ are _ you McCree?” 

“One far better than the one that hung around the likes of  _ you.” _

Crimson eyes meet McCree’s sparkling brown, he holds her gaze for a good minute of silence as she hisses under her breath. A good 10 feet apart, they continue their silent standoff. The archer strains his hearing as he sticks in the shadows of the outcropping. She’s not close enough to get knocked out by the blast and with that gun pointed straight at Jesse’s head, it’d be foolish at best to shoot now.

She eventually lets out a huff and slowly lowers her gun a bit. The blatant rage melts away and is replaced with a nonchalant attitude. 

“ _ Whatever.  _ You’re surrounded,  _ for  _ **_real_ ** _ this time. _ No grenade straps to throw at us. No trains to drop on our heads. No cover to duck behind now. And!” She chuckles with a shrug, “ _ You’re out of bullets sharpshooter.” _ She smirks and pulls her gun up, nodding at the gang to keep their guns on him as she slings her own over her shoulders. She shifts her weight, becoming more relaxed as she saunters in a small circle. Not turning her back to McCree but not necessarily moving further towards him or away from him.

“What happened to yer little military friends Jesse? They realize what a backstabbing  _ bastard _ you were and  _ drop you?” _ She pouts mockingly before erupting in laughter. McCree chews the inside of his cheek. Being exposed like this for so long is getting on his nerves, Ashe’s attitude isn’t helping. With his luck though, he shouldn’t have expected anything less. She shakes her head.  _ “Them over  _ **_us_ ** _. Tsk Tsk McCree.” _

_ “It was join or go to prison. You woulda lost me either way!” _ He lies. Ashe catches it.

_ “We coulda, would and  _ **_shoulda_ ** _ BROKEN. YOU. OUT!” _

“If you wanted to bring me back you coulda kidnapped me from the  _ base _ . Woulda been only  _ slightly _ harder than ripping me out of a maximum security prison. If you wanted me back so  _ bad _ ,  _ why didn’t you?” _

He catches her off-guard, the white haired rebel scowling in silence. By the time she gets a decent retort together, he’s already begun speaking again.

“Perhaps you felt  _ threatened _ by me.” He pauses, noting the newfound uncertainty in her eyes.  _ ‘Gottem.’ _ He smiles his charming smile once more and begins pacing slowly. His spurs jingle against the pavement with each slow, calm, step. “Blackwatch nabbing me was the  _ perfect _ opportunity for you to step up to the plate and start ruling these fellas out of  _ fear _ . A strong tactic, it  _ works _ , and for someone as ambitious as  _ you? _ Well, it’s a might quick way to climb the social ladder.”

The archer slowly draw an arrow tight, feeling the conversation sway in McCree’s favor. He peeks just slightly around the rock, assessing where Ashe stands compared to McCree. The cowboy continues his drawl.

“The only thing that holds a person’s allegiance stronger than  _ fear,  _ I’ve learned, is  _ respect.” _ He stops moving, standing at the ready and making eye contact with her. “These fellas  _ always _ respected me. I’m sure a few still  _ do _ deep down. Hell, even BOB does, right big guy?” He winks and nods at the omnic in greeting, to which Ashe spins back at him with a glare,  _ daring _ him to respond kindly. McCree begins slowly inching backwards, towards the bike. “Unlike what you think, I’m a dedicated family man! Ain’t  _ ever _ left a man behind. They all know that. The only one here with a grudge is  _ you,  _ they’re just feigning  _ theirs. _ I’ve  _ earned _ the leadership roles I’ve gotten through my  _ various  _ wins and accomplishments.” He brags practically hearing Ashe’s teeth grinding.

“ _ Big talk for a man about to die.” _

“Weak retort for a woman about to be beat for the second time in two weeks.”

_ “Ex _ **_cuse_ ** _ me—?” _

**_“GO!”_ **

McCree barks and the archer flies out from behind cover, firing. Ashe watches the arrow streak by in shock, too late to warn anyone or move as it strikes it’s target. 

_ ‘Who the hell—‘ _

The grenade blows spectacularly, knocking the rest of the gang back, taking the front of the bar down and blowing BOB, once again, to bits.

Ashe yells an undignified yell as she covers her faces to protect against the flying debris.  **_“MCCREEEEE!!”_ **

“Sorry  _ sweetheart.”  _ McCree spits, voice oozing with sarcasm as he closes the distance between him and Ashe, flipping his gun in his hand, and using the momentum to pistol-whip her. She hits the ground hard before he stuffs his gun and starts running back to the bike.  _ “Archer let’s MOVE!”  _ He barks as he jumps into the ditch. The man in question quickly slings his bow over his shoulders, making sure he’s got everything of importance. McCree, using the momentum he’s got going, grabs the bike with his metal arm and swings it up and around—back onto the road—and finishes the action by hopping on and hitting the gas in one swift motion. He reaches out for the archer with his good hand and catches him, swinging him onto the back of the bike as Ashe gets back on her feet, albeit dazed. 

_ “Shit, hang on and keep your head down!” _

_ “Is your pistol loaded?” _

_ “No, didn’t have a chance as you most  _ **_certainly_ ** _ saw.”  _ The archer rolls his eyes and grabs the cowboy’s gun with one hand, holding on tightly with the other. He looks around for another bullet, quirking a brow at the ones lined on the cowboy’s hat. He snatches one and opens the cylinder quickly, stressing to load it as Ashe slowly raises her own gun.

_ “What in devil’s name are you  _ **_doin’_ ** _ back there archer?!” _

“Making sure we don’t get bullets through our skulls.”

_ “Wait—“ _

Too late. Ashe meets the archer’s gaze through her scope a moment too late and he fires. She jerks her head away from her gun only to find that the bullet wasn’t  _ going _ for her head as her gun blows apart in her hands, the bullet hitting the barrel directly. She screams and throws the now mangled and partially exploded gun down, her hands and forearms thoroughly burned from the small explosion. McCree looks back, out of morbid curiosity, at what this stranger did to his old friend, only to be pleasantly surprised. Hell he actually laughs.

_ “You shot her  _ **_gun?!_ ** _ ” _

The archer nonchalantly places the revolver back in McCree’s belt, a smirk on his face. He shrugs. 

“If she kept that scope, we would have been dead. A straight shot with no cover and our heads perfectly aligned with each other? It would have been  _ easy.” _

A shiver runs down McCree’s spine at the thought. In her state, she probably  _ woulda _ pulled the trigger too. He can’t lie though,  _ he’s quite impressed.  _ Not everyday you stumble upon a stranger with a nearly equal skill set as your own. The cowboy can’t help but be thankful he got him on his side. He speeds up his bike, the plume of dust behind them covering their tracks and hiding them. They’re safe. McCree can’t help another laugh. 

“Ya know, with all due respect, ya ever considered using a  _ gun? _ You can obviously use ‘em! Ain’t the bow and arrow a bit, I dunno,  _ old fashioned?” _

The man scoffs and McCree can tell he’s slowly relaxing.

_“With all due respect,_ **Cowboy** , _have you looked in the_ ** _mirror_** _lately?”_ He snorts, “Ask me again once you’re _done_ looking like someone who just crawled out of the mid-nineteenth century.”

“ _ Touché, archer! Touché!”  _ He chuckles, falling into a comfortable silence as he pulls back out onto the main highway.  _ Finally _ leaving Deadlock Gorge behind…

..At least until Overwatch probably sends him back there at some point. Thinking of which pulls his mind back to why he  _ came _ in the first place. He frowns as he lets out a small sigh. That’s the last time he takes a tip from some shady Spanish chick over a payphone. He hardly got  _ anywhere.  _ He only got  _ slightly  _ more confirmation of the suspicions he already had. Hooded fella is in charge of the attack tactics, but who  _ he  _ is, is a shot in the dark. The voice of his newfound companion snaps him back to the moment.

“Frustrated?”

McCree glances back over his shoulder at the archer, a brow raised before he shrugs with another sigh, shifting his gaze back to the road. 

“Yeah, my trip here was  _ basically _ pointless. Only stirred up  _ far  _ more trouble than what it was worth..”

“I understand that.”

“ _ Heh.  _ Honestly? That doesn’t surprise me.”

“ _ Oh?”  _ He quirks a brow at the cowboy before him, who just chuckles.

“Yeah! It ain’t obvious by just lookin’ at the two of us, but somethin’ tells me we got a lot in common, partner.” He grins a bit back at the archer, who merely huffs in mild amusement. 

“Do you give  _ everyone _ you know nicknames?”

“I sure do! But you don’t count yet.”

“ _ How? You—“ _

“I can’t give you a nickname if I don’t even  _ know _ your name!” He laughs and garners an eye roll from the stranger. He glances back at the archer with a half smile and a shrug as he remains silent. The wind bats at the stranger’s now messy bangs as he thinks silently to himself. McCree makes note. If the situation hadn’t escalated the way it did, he probably would’ve had to wait  _ far  _ longer to get any info out of this guy, nonetheless garner enough trust to have that plan work. Granted, it was probably more of the natural need for  _ survival _ than trust but there had to have been trust nonetheless. 

“Hanzo.”

“ _ Pardon?” _ The cowboy looks back at him, pleasantly surprised.

“My name’s Hanzo. My surname is irrelevant…”

“Bad past huh? I can respect that. As long as it don’t put us at exponential risk, I don’t need to know.”

Hanzo snorts. “I have had it easy these past few years. Only about an assassin or two every few months now.”

“ _ Only?”  _ He chuckles, “Sounds like you’re a popular fella! Like I said, more in common than it seems..” He offers a wink and gets a bark of curt laughter. 

_ “Do not start.” _

“Alright! Fair enough partner.” He grins and goes back to driving, the two falling into silence once more. Just when Hanzo figured he’d fall back deep into his own thoughts, Jesse murmurs.

“Hanzo..”

“What?”

“Ah, Nothin’! It’s a good name, just rolls off the tongue is all.” He smiles with a shrug then pauses, tapping his fingers against the handles of the bike, “I feel like I’ve heard it before somewhere… Couldn’t name where if my life depended on it, but I’ve heard it before.” He laughs weakly with a shrug. It was the truth. So many years gone by with so many vague faces and names to remember during his time in Blackwatch, it was hard to keep track of the fleeting ones forver.

“Perhaps it’s better that way. No connotations.”

“Fresh starts! Cheers to that, Han. Speaking of which, when we actually  _ arrive _ in civilization again, how’s about scrounging up something to eat before you disappear all dramatic like?”

“From what I’ve seen in the past half hour? You are the one obsessed with theatrics.”

“Hey now, keep up the sass and I may not even pay!” 

“ _ Please,  _ do not feign manners you didn’t have in the first place.” He rolls his eyes.

“Now what did I just—!”

“Try and pull over and I’ll steal this bike from you. I dare you to try.”  
  



End file.
